


What Lies Under The Surface

by Chuchiwan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Drama, Fighting, M/M, Repressed Feelings, Self-Hating Sam Winchester, Sexpilogue (if I’m being honest), Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Slightly Clueless Dean, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-03-23 16:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chuchiwan/pseuds/Chuchiwan
Summary: Sam’s been hiding something- for a long time, actually. Dean is determined to figure out what it is but he might just find out something about himself he hadn’t known  about.Also, maybe they should really focus on the hunt before it costs them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello~ so here it is. This is the revised and finished version of the first supernatural story I ever wrote. 
> 
> For those of you who are reading my other Supernatural story “Somethin’ Like Soulmates” thank you for giving this story a chance as well! 
> 
> Keep in mind I wrote the first six chapters three or four years ago, so are a bit wonky.
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoy~

Dean smacked his lips together loudly, savoring the taste of the steak burger, two large whiskeys, and an order of curly fries. Damn, he would need to mark this pub on his road map, West Virginia sure knows how to make some damn good food. His hand was reaching for his third drink without so much as a second thought as his eyes wandered across the polished and glossy oak table to Sam on the other side of the booth. His head was propped up on his knuckles and his other hand glided over the keys of his laptop. 

Noticing Dean’s staring, Sam looked up expecting Dean to say something but when he just looked away he sighed in annoyance and went back to researching the police reports. “Get this, in Davis ‘Man claims that his wife and seven year old daughter had been kidnapped but is the one to go missing’ uh, it says Jerry T. White reported his wife Kathryn and seven year old daughter Melissa missing last Saturday. When the police arrived at the White residence, they found all three family members at home. When questioned about the false claim White said ‘they weren't there until the police came.’”

Dean shrugged “So, guy’s either off his rocker or needs a pair of glasses. If you're just grasping for straws trying to find us a hunt why don't we just start heading back to the bunker?” Sam smiled and raised his beer bottle Dean had been sure he had forgotten about to his lips “Missing your ‘extra comfy bed’?” His tease was met with a face drawn into unwavering determination “Hell yeah I am! Seriously though, Sammy. We could always take a break for a few days-”

“Hold back on your vacation plans, Dean.” Sam turned the laptop around to face his sceptical older brother and read out loud what Dean was now beginning to show some interest in “Two days later, Jerry White goes missing. And yesterday they found nothing but his bones. Not even the marrow inside was left.” “Man, maybe this is worth looking into.” Dean said slowly as if trying to work it out in his head.

Sam nodded in agreement and finished off his beer while he turned his computer back around to face himself “What do you think it could be?” 

“Fuck if I know. A Ghoul?”

“Could be… I can't think of anything else that likes sucking the bones like that- the marrow, Dean. Don't even smile you jerk. You know I didn't mean it like that.” But the grin creeping up on Dean’s face wouldn't stop so Sam settled on rolling his eyes and calling over a waitress that was surprisingly not deplorable at her job and ordered another round of drinks for them. 

When she had left their secluded corner booth Dean eyed his brother cautiously “You sure you're, um, okay to be drinking more, Sammy?” Oh and there was the scoff of annoyance “Says the high functioning alcoholic.” It was already starting… Sam was a fight picking drunk. The recent loss of Jack and their mom didn’t help the matter much. Even the slightest buzz had Sam saying some real shit whether he meant it or not. Dean didn't say anything and just watched as Sam drew his bottom lip into his mouth on having caught himself that time. “Sorry- look. I know I let it get out of hand last time but it's okay, after this round we can go back to the motel. Besides, I'm barely buzzed. I should be fine.”

With a long, dramatic sigh to show Dean’s disapproval the older Winchester gave in “Don't make me regret this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I got this sorted now. I shall be updating this story ever other day on the days between my other stories updates. Sorry the wait, but here it is.

The door to their motel room slammed into the faded orange wallpaper behind it as the both of them stumbled inside. Dean watched as Sam carried himself the rest of the way to his bed. He shook his head tiredly when Sam threw himself face first into the mattress of the bed had already claimed earlier and didn't make another move to pull his long legs up onto the bed too, at the very least.

Never again. NEVER. Sam was the worst drunk. Ever. There was no question about it. 

Dean closed the door just as loud as he had thrown it open, not giving two shits if everyone in the damn Motel had woken up as he glared at the dark room around him. Sam was snoring more noisy than normal as was usually after a night of drinking. With a little more effort used than he liked to admit, he staggered over to his bed and thought about how he was going to get Sam back. Not that killing him in his sleep right then and there didn’t flicker across his mind for split second before dying out.

The smell of whisky clung to his nose and reminded himself that he needed to get out of his clothes so he begrudgingly made his way over to the bathroom and flicked on the lights. Great. He looked a hell of a lot worse than he felt and his eyes still burned.

The whisky had no doubt soaked through his flannel to drink up his bare chest underneath meaning he would need a shower. “Tomorrow.” He told his reflection in the bathroom. Splashing some water in his red eyes really helped lessen the pain. When he finished up in there he headed back into the darkness of their rented room. Tossing his shirt to the floor he climbed into Sam’s bed. Never. Ever again.

“C’mon, Sammy. Got a lot of of stuff to do on the morning- Ghoul hunting or whatever.” Dean cooed mockingly to his brother slumped back against the brittle leather seats of their booth. It had happened again. When Sam promised that it was the last round, he somehow talked Dean into… three? Five more? He blamed it on Sam’s little brother powers of persuasion he had always used against Dean.

“Dee, please?”

“Just one more?”

there was just something about the way Sam could remind him that, yes, even though he was a freakin’ beanpole he was still his little Sammy, and God fucking damn it if his resolve melted like butter.

Now it was time to pay the consequences for his inability to say no to Sam.

“Dean, just go fuck yourself, kay? Leave me the hell alone.” And there it was. Dean sighed for the millionth time and pulled Sam’s unfinished (fifth? sixths?) beer out of his blindly groping hand’s reach. Sam groaned in frustration and brought his head back to glare at his older brother.

“Hey, Dee-” “Go fuck myself. Yeah. I know Sammy.” The bartender looked up from where he was wiping down the bar with a displeased frown not well enough hidden by his frizzy grey beard. It was closing time and he wanted to go home but had to deal with the drunken nomads. Dean hesitated for a moment, really not wanting to deal with Sam's shit when his buzz was dying out and early symptoms of a hangover were setting in- but knowing that there was no way he could avoid it now - too late to tell Sam to say that he would regret that ‘one more beer’- Dean decided it was about time to haul his brother back to their motel room and put the insulting drunk to bed.

“C’mon, Sammy. Let's go back to the room and catch some Z’s. Gonna be a bitch of hangover to deal with as it is when we go look into that case tomorrow-” “Fuck the case.” Sam groan and threw his head a bit too roughly into the wood table when Dean stood beside him and tried to pull his body up from the booth. “It doesn’t even matter. Ya know why? Because mom and Jack ‘r gone. We lost, it’s all over, Dee.”

Sam was going to pay. This was beyond annoying. “Stop acting like a dramatic bitch, man. I like the drunk-Sam that giggles like a freakin school girl way more than whatever shit storm this is.” His brother looked up from the table with… was that a hurt expression? Or was it a glare? Dean’s eyes were a little fuzzy and the dim lighting was not helping. 

And that was when Sam had splashed Dean’s unfinished whisky in his face.


	3. Chapter 3

“Dean, how many times do I have to apologize before you stop throwing a temper tantrum?” Sam asked, frustrated that since he had woken up Dean had been pissed at him for something he barely remembered doing. Closing the trunk of the Impala Dean shrugged his shoulders stiffly and loosened his tie a bit.

“I’ll accept your apology when you go back in time and don't become an angry asshole that burns my eyes with whiskey- and soaked my favorite shirt-” Sam scoffed “That wasn't your favorite shirt.” by the fierce look he received it was not a good time for correcting his older brother. 

After a long pause they started walking to the late Jerry White’s reasonably seized suburban house now blocked off by yellow police tape. Then Dean stopped them both with his index finger pointing up to the sky and finished with a grin and the batting of his eyelashes “-Or you could never drink again because you’ve been a killjoy even more than normally when you drink.”

With his demands said, Dean continued up the sidewalk to the house. There a cop was sitting in his car to keep watch over the crime scene. He took notice to their approach and bustled out of the patrol car to meet them before they could pass. 

“Hi. Special Agent Jackson and this is my partner Special Agent Nelson. We'd like to look around your crime scene if you don't mind.” Though he had switched to his serious tone for his role as an F.B.I agent as his credentials he flashed stated, his temper was still etched into the edges of his words. 

“What's a couple ‘a suites doin’ way out here? You lost?” John- as his gold badge stated over his left breast pocket- asked. Whether he was sincere or not remained to be seen. His face was that of a pudgy father of four and probably well loved by his wife but it was still hard for the brothers to believe he really was concerned.

“Um, no. We were sent here on purpose. This case falls under the same category as several other events which we have been investigating for quite a while now.” Sam clarified with a smile. Man, Dean had seen that fake smile plastered on his little brother's face so many times he almost liked seeing it- knowing that they were working a case when it felt like they were stuck spinning their wheels with this whole trying figure out how to get Jack and their mom back. Actually killing a monster and saving someone once in a while was a huge mood lifter. This fake expression was different from Sam's real smile, though. That was something that was only given to their mom and Dean himself and he took pride in the thoughts of Sam snorting with laughter when he cracked a particularly rancid joke.

“-and that's about all she said. Not much help to you boys probably.” John concluded with a slow, sad shake of his head as he hooked his fingers in the loops of his black leather belt as a way to distract his hands from coldness of the winter winds. Whoa. Dean suddenly realized he had missed out on some of the conversation but nodded as if he understood what had been said. 

“Thank you, Deputy.” 

John shrugged at Sam’s politeness and lifted the yellow tape for the two suites to duck under “John ‘s fine.”

“Okay, John. Where was Mr.White’s remains found?”

“Around back of the house- right there in that hole under the porch stairs- poor Mrs.White. It's a shame…”

“What is?” Dean asked and both the deputy and Sam gave him a look. “That she had been the one to find the body, of course! Word is Jerry and her had just lost a baby to a miscarriage.” John shook his head sadly once more “No wonder she’s been so aloft. Lost a husband and a baby. Be sensitive to her emotions if you end up going to see her.”

There was a long moment of silence, in which they all stared down into the shallow hole where Jerry White’s bones had been found until Dean couldn't take the somberness of it all and clapped the middle age man on the shoulder with a reassuring smile “Will do, thank you for all your help, Johnny but we've got it from here.” 

“Right. Well, if you should need me I'll be in my squad car making sure no kids or curious neighbors come snooping around.”

Sam waited until the cop had disappeared around the corner of the house before giving his older brother a raised eyebrow which the latter promptly ignored in place of crouching down beside the dug up dirt. He was checking for any clear signs of what the creature was. They were looking at but the hole was just a hole; no claw marks, smells, or inhuman fluids left behind.

When he got no answer from Dean from his nonverbal question it leaked out his mouth “What was that? He had just told us that the wife was the one to find her husband’s bones. Were you zoning out?” 

Dean stood and dusted the dirt off his hands “I was just lost in thought and missed a bit of what he said.” Sam shook his head, no smile- had that roughness always been there? When had it been that his neat freak of a brother given up on shaving? Losing Jack was tough but they’d get to that other dimension. Sam was just being cynical and near sighted.

“Did the hole tell you anything?” Sam asked when the conversation paused for longer than he liked and Dean snapped out of his thoughts and furrowed his eyebrows in hopes of maintaining his focus “Nope. If it is a Ghou,l they sure are a tidy eater compared to the rest of them.”

“Let's check out the inside of the house, grab a bite to eat, and then go talk to Mrs.White. Deputy John gave me her room number at the hotel she's staying at.” Sam walked up the back porch without waiting for Dean's response and the latter watched him for a moment before trailing after him. There was something that didn't feel quite right brewing in his brain but he would have to think about its meaning later.

The house had been clear of any signs of supernatural beings… unless you count the kimchi in their fridge to be the smell of sulfur because it had been pretty close to fooling them when they first entered the kitchen. They walked out the front door of the house a little disappointed. No indications of Ghoul meant that this was either not a Ghoul and was another monster or it was an insane person.

“I told you before, Dana. Don't come sniffing around here. The Whites aren't moving- Kathryn made that pretty clear, didn't she?”

The Deputy seemed exasperated by the women that stood beside him with her hands on her hips causing her vibrant orange pantsuit wrinkle across her unrealistically perky breasts. Sam and Dean slowed their approach to watch as the woman gave him her business card with a confident smile “No one would want to stay in the house something so horrible had happened to their spouse. She’ll call if you actually give her my card this time, Archie.” With that, she turned and headed back for her cherry red Mustang which she revved the engine of before pulling out onto the street and continued down and around the corner.

Noticing the two black suits approaching slowly, the police officer gestured in the direction of the car that had disappeared and explained with a bit of irritation “Stacy Barklume… She’s been coming by once or twice seeing if Mrs.White wants to sell her house but she’s told me that she not goin’ to sell and to just tell her no whenever she comes by. ‘Course, I'll be the mediator because it's just such a sad state of affairs. My daughter Jenny is friends with her daughter Melissa and it is just so sad to see a girl that was so cheerful become so closed off. I'm hopin we can get to the bottom this and put down whatever monster did this.”

Oh, this poor man didn't know how true his words might be. Dean raised hands to calm the worked up Deputy back down and patted his shoulder when he took a deep, calming breaths “Easy, tiger.” “Sorry.” “No no, it's okay. We’ll call you if we need any help but maybe until then you should have a coffee, hm?” John nodded in agreement “I could go for a coffee.” Dean grinned and patted his back one more time before detaching from him completely “That's right. We’ll be in touch.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Dean, I haven't really kept up shaving since I was hallucinating thinking Lucifer was out of the cage… I mean, you didn’t just now noticing I don’t shave very often...” Sam explained incredulously as he stabbed his plastic fork into the cheap diner salad and watched as his older brother meticulously chewed his grease streaked burger in what appeared to be a deep contemplation.

“Hm…” was his response and Sam stared at him in worry “You've been spacing out and forgetting things a lot today, do you think that vamp in Washington gave you a concussion when he kicked you in the head?” Dean waves him off and rolled his eyes as he swallowed the lump of meat and bread he had shoved too much into his mouth at one time before correcting Sam “Nah, that is luckily behind me. All good there. I'm just trying to figure out when and why you became such a… tightass isn't really the word I'm looking for since you've always been that... I donno, just noticed something was different about you when you were drunk last night.” 

Sam narrowed his eyes on his brother before saying maybe a bit too defensively “Yeah, Dean. I was drunk. People usually act differently than when they are sober.” 

“Maybe.” He knew that Sam was beating himself up about their current situation but there was something more… it was something that he was coming to realize had been around for a while now but he was just starting to notice. He could tell that whatever had changed his little brother, Sam knew about it and didn't want to talk about it. Dean pulled back for the time being. The whole rest of the meal Dean took notice to Sam worrying his lip and his loss of appetite. It only made his curiosity grow.

 

The hotel the Whites were staying at was the epitome of a stuffy frufru version of a motel and they probably wouldn't have been allowed into it if not for the suits and badges. After explaining who they were- or pretending to be- to the front desk when they were stopped before they could reach the elevator by the slim, dark skinned woman making eyes at Dean while Sam argued with her without raising his voice like he wanted to when she said she wouldn't let them up to Mrs.White’s room.

“Sorry, boys. She specifically asked that no one bother her during the day. But if you'd like to see her later you can.” Now that was odd, why only meet people at night? Sam and Dean shared a glance of suspicion before Dean turned to ‘Fran’ as her name tag read with that utterly ridiculous face he always makes when he's flirting that Sam really wondered how that worked on so many chicks. 

“Fran, you have to understand. We're federal agents and Mrs.White is part of a current investigation.” She leaned forward a bit with a sly grin “Oh, I know how you federal agent types work. You're not the first F.B.I agent to come through this town and I also know you have a fifty dollar bill in your pocket with my name on it. Pay up and I'll let you up to see her.” Sam couldn't help a snort of laughter to escape him when the flirting had become a solid demand and Dean pulled out his wallet dejectedly to give her fifty bucks.

Money in hand Fran’s cloud of dark hair bobbed with happiness, “fourth floor, room C 14. “ “Thanks.” Sam offered with an amused smile as his brother walked away in a hurry and she waved from behind the front desk “Have a nice day!”

“Dude, what do you think she means by another F.B.I agent has been here? You think another hunter was here before us?” Sam asked as they rode the elevator up to the fourth floor and Dean sighed “Maybe but can we really trust someone named Fran? I mean, c’mon…” it was apparent that Dean was still brooding so Sam nudged him with his shoulder to get his attention. “Believe it or not, every woman in America is not going to be interested in you, Dean.”

The hall of the fourth floor opened for them in all its badge walls and middle eastern carpet glory. And there's a smell, something close to cleaning product but more along the lines of scented body soap. Strawberry maybe? At least it wasn't something unpleasant like sweat or rotten potatoes. They walked down the hall side by side in relative silence as Dean licked his front teeth out of habit when he was trying to come up with a comeback.

C 14 looked just like any other door in the long hallway of the hotel, but there was a notable effect- an indication that something was not right in that room. The hair on the nap of their necks stood on end but Dean was not going to just stand there and stare at the door stupidly so he gave the hunk of wood a few ferm knocks. 

The door opened revealing a sliver of darkness and small, pale face appeared floating just above the handle. Irritation shown in her seemingly translucent expression, far beyond what should be possible for someone of her age. 

“Can't you read? The sign clearly says ‘Do not disturb’.”

Sam hadn't even noticed the sign but he doubted Dean and him would have changed their actions anyway. “Sorry for not noticing. Melissa White?”

“Yeah, who's asking?”

The brother's flashed their fake credentials and she seemed to be contemplating what to do. “Melissa, is your mom here? We have a few questions we'd like to ask her. It's real important.” Dean said with what he hoped was a friendly smile but it dropped when she wrinkled her nose and backed up a bit, her face almost disappearing in the veil of darkness.

“Now you're disturbing me and the sign said not to. Go away.”

The door was on its way to closing when a muffled voice called out from within the hotel room “Don't be so mean! Invite them in!” The door paused inches away from shutting and there was the sound of a murmured conversation before Melissa opened the door all the way and glared at them before retreating deeper inside.

It was dark but not quite pitch black and Dean felt the way for the two of them before their eyes began to adjust and they stood beside the little girl, who in turn, stared forward to the leftmost bed out of the double-bed room where the shape of a women with long hair sat looking towards them. The curtains were closed on the mid-afternoon outside and the lights purposefully left off to compensate.

Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. 

“My mom has a migraine. Don't make it worse.”

Sam nodded warily and took a brave step forward and began in a cautious voice “Mrs.White, if you could answer us a few questions it would really help the investigation into your husband’s untimely death.” 

There was a long moment that they all sat into the dark until the shadow mass that was Mrs.White jolted into realization “Oh, oh yes. Of course. Anything-ask it.”

Dean noted the oddly casual aspect of her voice as if they were talking about her special ribs recipe and not the death of her husband. And then there was Melissa, the whites of her dark eyes giving off the brightness as if the curtains were open but  
also held a ragged look towards the Winchesters.

“Did your husband have any enemies? Anyone who had it out for him?”

“I have no idea.” She responded so bluntly that Sam was taken off guard but Dean… Dean was suspecting.

As if she noticed what she said sounded wrong, she added quickly “This last few months- eh, we didn't really talk all that much, ya know?”

Recovering from the odd response, Sam asked the next question with eyebrows drawn so closely together, bowing curves were etched into his forehead “What about the night of the murder? Do you recall seeing, hearing… smelling anything unusual?” The answer was instantaneous “No! We- me and Mel-” “Mel and I.” Mrs.White’s daughter corrected with some annoyance and the seemingly loopy widow amended her statement “Mel and I were asleep. I woke up to the sound of his dying screams.”

Dean was about to just straight up ask these imposters- because that part he was now positive of- if they were Ghouls because this whole visit was shitty. When suddenly Mrs.White’s figure dropped its head and its shoulders began to shake. A broken cry ripped through her lips with surprising velocity. It was a miracle that no one’s eardrums burst.

“Okay. You two have to leave. Honestly, you have no common courtesy for a grieving widow!” Tiny fists of anger pounded at Dean’s side before Melissa began shoving the two of them out of the dark hotel room.

Dean and Sam stood outside of the room door trying to process exactly what all just happened. It finally hit Dean and he turned to his brother with a arrogant victory smile “If every chick in America doesn't want to sleep with me they sure as hell don't want to sleep with Mr.cries-through-sex.” 

There was really no reaction on Sam's face, he just stared at Dean with a thin smile. 

“Remember? When you came back from banging that chick in the pant suit and your eyes were all red-” “Yeah, Dean. I remember, every time you bring it up. Is that your only comeback for when I say you're bad with women or-” Suddenly Dean's smile dropped and he pointed a threatening finger at Sam's chest “I am amazing with women.” They started down the hallway back to the elevator when Dean tacked on “If you were a chick-” Sam groaned and ran a hand through his hair “Okay okay! I believe that you are amazing with women. Just don't finish that sentence, Dean.”

A childish fist pump shot into the air just as the elevator opened up for them. 

“I'm thinking this is going to be a pretty standard Ghoul beheading. What'd you think about the Hatter and the frickin mini Red Queen?”

“There was something going on with them.” Dean nods in agreement “Alright, we storm the palace tonight.” “Uh, no? We can't just behead a mother and her daughter because we think their suspicious. We need some kind of proof that they really aren't humans.”

“You and your rules.” Dean sighed in annoyance but he knew Sam was right. That's the annoying part. 

Fran waves to them with a sly grin as they head out the front entrance of the hotel towards the Impala parked some two or three blocks away. 

It was more cloudy than it was when they had entered the building and Dean felt oddly hyper aware of Sam walking beside him wordlessly. It wasn't the comfortable silence that use to hang around them at times like this. There was some unspeakable tension between them. He wasn't still pissed at Sam for the whole angry drunk incident the night before.

The Impala’s doors let out a familiar squeak as they fell into her plush leather seats. They closed their doors and Dean gripped the steering wheel. But didn't make a move to start the engine.

“Dean. What's wrong?”

“Has something-” Dean started but caught his lip between his teeth. This wasn't really the time to deal with this. They were in a middle of a hunt- but curiosity was so persuasive.

His eyes met Sam's seriously “Has something changed?” It was vague- he knew it was, but he wasn't sure how to make a more clear message without it sounding too… weird.

“You're gonna have to be a bit more specific.” A puff of laughter escaped Sam’s lips in an attempt to keep things light but Dean didn't smile. No… he was definitely missing something here. 

“You know, between us.” It came out in an unsure mumble. Sam opened his mouth only to shut it in a tight, thin line a second later. Many things were fluttering into his mind from somewhere far off in the back of his brain. Those thing were old things that Sam dreaded the revisiting of. 

“Things change, Dean. It's what they do.”

“But like, not us- I mean, we've literally been to hell and back. But we're still the same, right?” In all honesty, Dean didn't want them to be the same as they always had been- not technically- he thought that over the years they had gotten to be closer. Almost like it was before Stanford had screwed everything up.

A bitter smile started to form on Sam's face but he turned back towards the front window and nodded simply “Yeah, Dean.” 

For some reason Dean didn't like the way Sam had said that. This conversation was already getting too deep. He would pull back for now. With a grunt, he started up the car and pulled away from the curb.


	5. Chapter 5

They sat in the silence between them and sharpened up their machetes. Their plan was to get back into the Whites’ house. Deputy John had innocently called them up and told them that Kathlyn and Melissa had come back to their house for the night. Once they were inside, the idea was to trick them into exposing what they really were and when they did, they’d chop their heads off and call it good.

Sam was deep in thought, eyebrows drawn together tightly. His mind was wander off to a place in his thoughts he had almost forgotten existed. He was trying to focus on the case though. Something about the way the mother and daughter were acting in the hotel had him second guessing that they were Ghouls. They were definitely not human but what monster- 

He hissed when the machete blade cut a strip of skin from his hand. Daydreaming while cleaning an extremely sharp blade was definitely not the smartest thing Sam had ever done.

Dean had been keeping a calculating eye on his brother from the other motel bed but now completely abandoned his secretive glances and put down his own weapon to move around the bed to where Sam was holding a tissue from the bedside drawer to the superficial cut.

“Now what’d you go and do that for, Sammy?” He reached for Sam’s hand but the other jerked it away from him. “It’s just a little scratch. I got it.” Now Dean was getting a little irritated “Okaaay? Just let me look at it.”

Sam abruptly stood, their knees bumping from the small gap between the beds on which they were sitting facing each other. The younger made his way into the bathroom where they had set up their emergency medical kits. 

Dean watched him go for a moment, trying to understand what had just happened. He couldn’t help but calling over his shoulder to Sam “Who shoved a stick up your ass now?”

There was no response. Dean contemplated just letting it drop, go back to sharpening his machete and let Sam ride out this weird funk of his… but then again, fuck that idea. He sat the blade back down and went over to the bathroom doorway.

Sam was wiping the blood away from the wound, a bottle of rubbing alcohol was on the sinks edge with a roll of gauze. He didn’t look up but he knew Dean was standing there against the doorframe watching him. After a pause, Sam sighed tiredly “What?”

“I don’t get why you’ve started acting like a bitch twenty-four seven. I mean, what did I say Sam? What set you off? The bar? This hunt?” Sam looked up at Dean as he grabbed for the rubbing alcohol and his face was drawn in mild exasperation. “Honestly, it’s just this whole thing with Jack and Mom, Okay? I apologize if I stepped on your toes, Dean.”

Dean was calling bullshit. It wasn’t that- he just knew. It was something between them and it had been going on quietly in the background for years. Sam was closing up, slowly putting some distance between them, literally. Dean’s mind had scowward his memories all day, and he realized that even before Sam had gone and gotten himself locked in The Cage with Lucifer and Michael there had been Sam’s retractions.

Dean’s hugs that had been pushed out from, the distance from where they sat… it oddly hurt. The idea that his baby brother didn’t want Dean’s affectionate gestures. They had always been closer than most siblings and Dean assumed that that probably had something to do with the way they had been raised, but now… he wondered if that all had been an illusion, a lie he told himself and others.

“Was it because I was trying to figure out what’s happening to you? Because I’ve finally started to get your message?”

“And what message would that be, Dean?”

An anger was bubbling up in Dean but he kept himself in check as he spoke “That you can’t stand me, that every fucking day you’re just tolerating being around me.” He was smiling but the anger was seeping through. That was fine, it worked to cover the pain lingering behind it. “Hate me all you want, Sammy. But we’re stuck in this life together until somethin’ kills us.”

Now he had Sam’s full attention, he looked confused and a bit surprised. “I don’t hate you, Dean. I’d never- really, I…” he gave a frustrated sigh and combed his hair back from his face with the now bandaged hand before looking away.

“I don’t hate you, okay? Just… please, Dean. Leave it alone. It doesn’t matter.” That last thing ‘it doesn’t matter’ drew a twinge of pain to Sam’s controlled expression. He couldn’t leave this alone now, not when he didn’t even know what ‘it’ was yet. Whatever this thing was, it was getting between them. Sam thought that he had to carry it all by himself.

He squatted down to be similar height as Sam was sitting on the lid of the toilet lid, much like he had when Sam really had been his ‘little’ brother. He hoped his concern didn’t look too much like anger as he looked up at Sam’s deep frown.

“Hey, you know that I actually care, right?” Sam rolled his eyes “You care too much.” Dean ignored that comment and went on “Really, if you’re goin’ through somethin’... if something is really bothering you, I’m always here. Who knows, maybe if you just tell me what’s goin’ on you’ll feel better about it?”

Sam hesitated for only a second, then gave his brother a crooked smile “It’s really nothing important.” Dean highly doubted that, but gave a curt nod and stood up. If Sam wanted to keep it to himself that badly, Dean would let him… at least until this hunt was over and done with.


	6. Chapter 6

They approach that Whites’ house in the dead of night. Dean had parked the impala further up the road so the monsters inside wouldn’t hear them coming. All the lights looked to be off.

“They could be sleeping.” Sam offered, but Dean shook his head “Nope. Something tells me that they’re still up.” Now up on the lawn, they could hear the muffled sound of of glass being broken over and over inside the house.

“What the hell are they doin’ in there?” Dean wondered in a hushed voice. Luckily, as a precaution while they had been checking out the house earlier, Sam had unlocked one of the windows. Just in case they’d need an easy in later. 

Quietly, they both climbed in through the window, the sound of the little girl from earlier laughing and the crash of more glass filling the house. They moved silently from room to room, machetes raised and ready to strike if anything came at them. Dean kept an eye on what was behind them as Sam moved slowly down the hallway in front of him. He looked tense, more tense than Dean had seen him on a minor league hunt in a long time.

But he shouldn’t be worrying about that now, they were in the heat of a hunt and as long as they got it taken care of, they could mosey on back to the bunker and have are real discussions about what Sammy was hiding. He’d get it out of him one way or another.

The kitchen was just around the the next door frame, but Sam motioned for them to stop where they were. A shadow in The was blocking the doorway as projected on the wall across from them. Judging by the size and shape, it was the Melissa White impersonator leaning against the doorframe.

Another sound of glass shattering and the little girl giggled again before moving further into the room. The sound of the mother’s voice rouse up, sounding more like an excited little kid “C’mon, Michael! Just try breaking one! It’s so fun!”

Sam moved slowly through the doorway to the other side of it so Dean and him bordered either side, just in case one of them ended up needing to use a gun for some reason. They always tried taking in every possible outcome and being ready for all of them.

He had seen, the two monsters standing in the center of the kitchen, all the cupboards thrown open, and nearly they whole floor covered in glass. Sam hoping that it isn't sharp enough to break through the tread of their shoes. He’d gotten glass in his foot when he was younger and it had been almost as painful as taking a hammer to his toes, which also happened to him he was younger.

The young girl sighed, crossing her hands over her chest “You know this isn’t why we came back, right?” The older woman gave her a goofy grin “Yeah, but we already got the money, this is just for the fun of it. Don’tcha wanna try it? Just once? Hmm?” There was a hesitation, and then the smaller reluctantly reached for the plate being held out to them.

But they’d never smash that plate. Dean and Sam simultaneously charged the room. The little girl barely had a moment to register them coming into the room before Dean’s blade sliced clear through her neck. 

The ghoul playing Mrs. White’s eye bulged in surprise and they took several, terrified steps back as Sam and Dean closed in. “You killed Michael! W-why’d you go and do that!?” Tears were in their eyes now and they were sinking to the floor in terror- and to Sam and Dean’s confusion- utter grief. Never, never had a monster cried to  
so honestly for another.

The Ghoul reached a shaky hand towards the decapitated head, slowly disintegrating in the glass on the floor. Sam raised his machete to draw back attention to them, and the monster flinched, and scooted further in the wall behind it. Not caring about the glass underneath it.

“Don’t worry there, buddy. You and ‘Michael’ will be reunited in purgatory soon enough.” And with that, Dean sliced his blade through the monster’s throat, the head tumbling to to side. 

That was the end of it.

Dean and Sam walked quickly to the car, they’d need to skip town that night, once the mess at the house was discovered, they didn’t want to be around when one of the nosy neighbors said that they saw two guys in an impala.

They climbed into baby, started her up and drove off to the motel so they could collect their things but Dean almost felt Sam thinking loudly again and gave a glance his way before inevitably giving in and asking “What’s on your mind, Sammy?”

“There was just something… off about the hunt.” The older Winchester laughed tiredly “Oh, don’t I know it.” “Not, uh, about ‘us’, Dean. Something about those Ghouls didn’t feel right.”

Dean shrugged “Yeah, that last one especially- and what ghoul decides to go by something like ‘Michael’? I mean, don’t they kinda hate human culture?” Sam nodded and adjusted in his seat so he was more slouched. “It’s definitely gonna bug me for a while.”

They were quiet. The muffled sound of the radio filling the silence around them. It had to be the first time ever that Sam was the one to turn the volume up louder. In any other situation, Dean would have smiled and maybe made some joke about Sam finally understanding what good music was. But when Sam did that now, right then, it pissed Dean off because he knew exactly what that gesture meant. ‘Don’t talk to me.’


	7. Chapter 7

With the Impala parked in the safety of the bunker, they set to work grabbing their duffle bags out of the trunk. Sam started a load of laundry, tossing both of their clothes into the machine, but being careful to check every pocket on Dean’s pants. Back when he had put his older brother in charge of the laundry Dean had gone and thrown one of his phones into the wash because he always leaves things in his pockets.

Gathering up the machetes and guns they had used on the last couple hunts they had hit on the way back to the bunker, Dean passed by Sam. His eyes caught his little brother and lingered long after Sam had ignored him and walked past him. The weapons needed cleaning and after driving for sixteen hours with only bathroom and gas breaks, Dean was tired as fuck.

Maybe he’d just wait until the morning to interrogate Sammy… but instantly a voice in his head was arguing. No, he needed to bring it up or it would just get shoved back to wherever it came from and getting Sam to talk about it would be impossible.

He sat the weapons down in the weapons room to deal with later and then went to the strategy room. His hand leading him over to the drawer of the deep rich bookcase meant to house… well, books. But this particular cupboard had become the storage for several whiskey bottles- one of which he pulled out and a glass cup saved just for the occasion. 

It came with him to sit at the oak table him and Sammy regularly researched or chatted at. It was by far the most used room in the bunker. Cozy feeling compared to the concrete bedroom and kitchen. Dean tossed a drink back, waiting to see if this was gonna be easy (a.k.a Sam coming into the room ready to talk) or difficult (Sam deciding to go hid out in his room)

He was starting to suspect the latter when he suddenly heard Sam’s footsteps coming up from the halls. Dean straightened a bit, readying himself for this fight (because in his mind there was no way this wouldn’t become a fight). then there was Sam. He didn’t even look in the direction of the strategy room, instead, making his way across the large map room. He passed under the stairs and looked as though he was heading to the Men of Letters’ Archives.

That would have to wait.

“Sammy, c’mere for a second.” Even from where he sat he could see the subtle flinch of Sam’s shoulders, probably from being caught trying to hide out in the archives knowing full well that would be the last place Dean would suspect him to be right after coming back from a hunt. 

“I got to check somethin’. I’ll be back in a s-“   
“Don’t be an idiot. C’mere.” 

Reluctantly, Sam turned back to Dean and headed over to the table he sat at. It reminded Dean of little Sammy way back when Dean was the one in charge while John was off on a hunt. 

Sam stood beside the table, refusing to take a seat, which would make it harder for him to escape if need be. Dean offered him a glass of whiskey. Raising it up to him and giving the glass a little shake to make the liquid slosh about within. Sam didn’t take it. Instead, looking down at Dean with a frown.

“Sammy, you gotta tell me what it is-“ 

Sam nearly exploded with exasperation “God, Dean! Why can’t you just leave it alone? Why can’t you move on? It doesn’t ma-“

“‘Doesn’t matter’ Yeah, I heard you the first time. But whatever it is, does matter to you even if you want to say it doesn’t. And you know what? It matters to me because as long as you’re stuck on it, you’re gonna bitch and you’re gonna keep pushing me away- and I don’t even know why!”

Sam let out a sigh, pushing his hair away from his face. “Have you maybe thought that it’s none of your fucking business? You don’t get to know everything, Dean. And you can’t force me to tell you!”

Sam started to turn away when Dean grabbed hold of his wrist, squeezing harshly “Wanna bet?” Sam hissed and tried to tug his hand free from Dean but he only squeezed tighter. If Sam hadn’t been furious before, he was now.

“Oh yeah, gonna beat me into submission? Gonna show me I don’t have a right to privacy like dad, Dean?” That hit hard. Not just for Dean but for Sam as well. They had made a silent pack not to bring up that shit up ever again. But here Sam was, making both of their stomachs turn uncomfortably at the memory.

Dean let go of his brother’s wrist, who rubbed at the sore flesh. There wasn’t really much to say after he had taken it there, but Dean wouldn’t give up. It was really bothering him that Sam wouldn’t tell what was going on with him. 

In a sudden moment, Dean stood, him and Sam now facing each other, no less than a foot between them. Dean’s eyes shifted away as he said with the utmost sincerity “I just don’t want anything to get between us, Sammy. And this… whatever it is- it’s hurting you.” Then he looked back to Sam seriously “Can’t you trust me? Whatever it is, we’ll work it out, together.”

Raw, Sam’s face showing pure, raw grief on it. And then, in a much too quiet, trembling voice Sam spoke as if each word was borderline painful “You’d never want to look at me again, Dean. You’d hate me.”

To hear his brother say that made Dean’s chest heave tightly. The fact that Sammy thought that Dean could ever truly hate him… it hurt. He tugged Sam down into a gruff hug, feeling the stiffness in his entire body. “How could I ever hate my family, Sammy? Give me a little credit, I stayed there for you even when you were drunk on demon blood- ‘was there when you were just straight up drunk and threw whiskey in my face. I don’t hate you. Kinda sucks but I think I couldn’t even if I wanted-“

“I love you.” 

There was a deafening silence, still hugging Sam to him. He recovered, and gave Sam’s back a good pat. Maybe Sam just didn’t think that Dean cared. He hadn’t told Sam he loved him since he was twelve and Sam nine. He had become a hell of a lot less affectionate over the years so maybe… he could afford one chick flick moment to get Sam out of this funk.

“Yeah, uh, I love you too, so-“

Sam pulled away from the hug, keeping Dean at arms length with one hand on Dean’s shoulder. His eyes were searching, wide… Dean felt extremely confused and just a little awkward after saying that he loved his brother out loud. Shit, why did that make feel so weird? His heart was hammering.

“No, Dean… I’m in love with you.” He sounded utterly defeated saying that. Dean’s eyebrows furrowed but his lips quirked into an amused grin, ignoring the way his heart was practically beating out of his body. Some things were starting to make sense but he didn’t want to admit it. “And I love Thomas the Train. What’re we talkin’ about here?”

Sam smiled humorlessly, his hand dropping from Dean’s shoulder. “I knew you’d do this. Pretend it’s a joke and move on like I wasn’t serious.” Dean’s heart was in his ears and he felt the heat of blush burning his neck. He’d been preparing himself for a whole lot of shit Sam could have told him, but not this. This was… somehow, overwhelming.

“Because it is a joke, Sam. You can’t be in love with me, it-“ “It’s disgusting? Wrong? You think I don’t know that? Why the hell do you think I told you to just leave this alone? Because I know how fucked up it is Dean. I buried it and you went and dug it up and it…” he took a deep breath, letting it out shakily and Dean took notice to the heat brightly staining Sam’s cheeks as well as the extra twinkle in his eye signaling unshed tears.

“It hurts so bad, Dean.”

How on earth was he supposed to react to this? He wanted to hug Sam again but that probably wouldn’t send the right message. What was the right message? Chugging the whole bottle of whiskey next to him on the table sounded like a good idea. But this was tearing Sam apart, his… feelings for Dean that had been around for who knows how long. 

So Dean gave a curt nod, looking around the room as he placed his hands on his hips. “Okay… we’ll get through this.” 

Sam snorted and shook his head “There’s no getting through this. There’s no magical cure, Dean. I’ve tried to make it stop before, it just is.” “Why me though? Are you like… only gay for me, or somethin?”

That had definitely been the wrong thing to ask. Sam narrowed his eyes in a death glare before turning away from Dean and heading for the stairs. “I’m going out for a while.” Shit. Dean had made things worse, hadn’t he? He followed after Sam, speeding up to cut him off at the stairs. Now looking down at Sam who automatically turned his head to the side, trying to hide his watering eyes.

Dean stood there blocking the way trying to think up something, something reassuring but all that came out was “Sammy I really ain’t worth-”

Sam turned on him. Dean tensed, ready for one of Sam’s hard hitting punches. When it didn’t come he was surprised, even more surprised when Sam yanked him down by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. 

Sam’s lips were chapped but oddly soft, almost delicate. Dean’s heart stopped beating in his chest for the two or three seconds the kiss had lasted and he was horrified with the realization it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world. Hell, had actually… nope. Couldn’t say it.

Then it was over. Sam shoved Dean out of the way and finished climbing the stairs. Dean was aware of the sound of metal slamming harshly into more metal as Sam left the bunker but he couldn’t move.

Sam had just kissed him.

His little brother, who was apparently in love with him.

Then there was the unsettling reality that he wasn’t grossed out. It hadn’t felt wrong at all and that threw Dean for a serious loop. It had been just lips pushed crudely into lips and his mind tried to rationalize his lack of disgust and… ‘enjoyment’ of the feeling as being the result of the Goodnight kisses he had given Sam from when he was just a baby all the way up until he was eight. Another thought hit him a bit harder. Had overly affectionate treatment of his brother way back then led him to have these feelings for Dean?

Was it a bad thing?

His mind reeled, too much going on in his head. His hand gripped the stair railing so tight his knuckles turned white. He just needed to calm down. Calm down and think about this rationally.

He turned and looked up at the bunkers main entrance and heaved a heavy sigh. Two things he needed to do; think rationally and find Sammy before he did something stupid.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun was setting when Fran finally got off work. She hated the hours but the hotel paid good. The streets weren’t extremely crowded yet but she knew from experience that if she didn’t make it back before everyone else clocked off it would take her twice as long to get back home.

Home wasn’t really a building for her- though she was currently residing in a house- Home was her family and she was looking forward to seeing how work had gone for them.

She walked up the sidewalk, past the shops and liquor stores, it was less than a block away when she suddenly noticed a cop making his way up the street towards her. She paused for the slightest moment then discreetly turned down the next ally. She walked quickly towards the other side when she suddenly felt a large hand on her shoulder.

In one quick movement, she turned the hand around and shoved it roughly into the cop’s face. She took several steps away from him before turning back, ready to yell about sexual assault for the whole block to hear.

But then she saw that the pudgy cop was rubbing at the soar bridge of his nose and tears were dribbling down his face. “Ow! Why’d you go and do that, Fran? That really hurt!”

Her eyes widened and she rushed up on cop, checking how bad she had hurt him. “Billy? What happened to suit I gave you? Where’s Michael?”

The mention of Michael had the cop’s eyes bulging, before another wave of tears started spilling out of his eyes. “The hunters… they snuck up on us when we were lootin’ the place last night.” Here he choked on a sob but forced himself to keep going “They… they chopped Michael’s head off.”

Fran dropped to her knees as pure and utter grief ripped through her chest. Billy took a knee beside her, holding her thin frame to his.

“They, they must’ve thought we were somethin’ else. They chopped my head too, that’s why I needed to get a new suit. Franny, what’re we gonna do?” His voice was filled with a childlike fear and Fran remembered that she had to stay in control for Billy if nothing else. She dried her tears and thought of the two men who she had spoken to, the two men who had gone on to kill Michael.

“We’re gonna track down those hunters and kill them in the worst ways possible.”


	9. Chapter 9

Sam had fucked up big time.

He had just been so mad and frustrated. Why did Dean always have to keep digging and digging until he knew what was hidden? Why couldn’t Sam have just one thing- one thing Dean didn’t know about?

Sam had kissed Dean. Shit.

He scrubbed at his hair in aggravation. Kissing Dean had definitely made things worse. It would probably be best if he stayed away for at least a month. A month was safest. He’d work cases by himself or with other hunters, he’d try to get Jack and Mary back.

The bartender gave him a wary look, probably seeing the utter agony on his face. He was waiting for a bus that would take him to the state line and he’d rather not be out and about in Lebanon where Dean would be able to find him. The bartender placed a shot of vodka in front of him and Sam looked up at him, hesitant. He just gave a nod and said in a gruff voice “On the house.” Sam gave a tight lipped smile and tossed the shot back “Thanks.”

The bus pulled up right on time. It would take him a good six hours or so until he felt save that he was far enough from Dean to feel safe. To feel as though he didn’t have to anticipate Dean rounding the next corner and clocking him right in the jaw.

Knowing Dean, he’d be pissed for two reasons; the obvious one being the fact Sam had kissed him, the second being his attempt to get away from Dean. His brother had always had an extreme separation anxiety. He always wanted his family (John and Sam in the earlier years. Mary and Sam in the later) to be with him where he knew where they were. This was probably gonna make Dean flip his lid but Sam didn’t really care. It was Dean’s fault for forcing this horrible thing back up to the surface.

The bus was unloading all the people and he watched aimlessly, waiting for his turn to board when he heard the familiar ring of his cellphone. What an idiot, he had forgotten to toss it. He dug it free from his pocket and was about to toss it into the nearest trash can when he saw the familiar name on the screen. 

DEPUTY JOHN (WV)

He hesitated, wondering if the cop suspected Dean and him had been the reason behind the disappearance of Mrs. White and her daughter. He’d be tossing the phone anyway so he decided to answer the call.

“Special Agent Nelson speaking.”

An older lady next to him gave him an odd look. He probably didn’t looked the part very much at the moment but he ignored her. There was heavy breathing on the other line.

[Agent, somethin real weird is happenin. The whole town seem to be disappearing and I keep hearing noises outside office I locked myself in. I think whatever it is it’s coming for me!”]

Sam could hear a distinct hissing in the background and his mind was racing to think of what could have happened. They had been so sure they had been dealing Ghouls. Maybe that assumption was the reason the monsters had gone on killing. He looked around himself trying to think up what to do and then it clicked.

“Uh, Okay. I’ll come as soon as I can- barricade the doors and windows, don’t let anything or anyone inside no matter what.”

[Okay. O-okay.]

“Everything is gonna be alright. Just hang in there, Deputy.”

He hung up and immediately threw the phone the trash. The bus was starting to board but he wasn’t taking it anymore. He’d be needing a car.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait~ here is the next chapter! Enjoy.

Dean supposed his stupid one track mind had cost him to be behind Sam an hour or two. He had tried get himself to go after him the moment he left… but then his mind had gone on thinking, thinking about the press of Sam’s lips into his and- god fucking damnit, just send him to hell already. How had that managed to stir a familiar warmth in the pit of his stomach? 

He had poured himself two more glasses of whiskey and downed them one after another. He was exhausted from the drive back to the bunker and this thing with Sam was also emotionally exhausting. He had to slap himself to get himself focused.

After pulling up the tracker on Sam’s phone, he had quickly gotten baby started up and headed out. He was relieved to find the phone was on the move. Sam hadn’t ditched it yet. Fine. Fine. This was okay. He’d beat the shit out of Sam if he tried to fight him. No matter what he was gonna pick Sam up and they were gonna handle this like grown ass men.

So what if Sam had feelings for him. They still had to get Jack and their mom back. Maybe Dean could reach some soft of… agreement with his brother. 

When he pulled up to the curb where Sammy’s phone had last pinged the ease of tracking Sam down suddenly faded. An empty bus stop. “Shit.” He groaned but he climbed out anyway. If Sam was on a bus he could always check bus schedules and see which had left recently, weed through the routes and try to catch up to Sam. It wouldn’t be hard, unless Sam had switched buses at one point.

He ignored the odd look he got from a passersby as he plunged his hand into the trash can and dug around until he pulled out Sam’s phone. He was grasping at this point, hoping for clues. Last time Sam had gone rogue, he’d managed to avoid Dean for weeks. But Sam wasn’t in the best state of mind at the moment. He would slip up. 

And that’s when Dean checked the call logs. Maybe he already had slipped. Dean shoved the phone in his pocket and hurried back to the impala. He’d think of what to say to Sammy when he got to him.


	11. Chapter 11

Something wasn’t right.

Sam was already getting an awful feeling looking at the sheriff's station. People were walking by on the streets like nothing was that matter- that people weren’t just disappearing in Davis. There really weren’t that many people, how could these people be acting like nothings was wrong?

But then there was the sheriff's station. All the blinds were closed and the lights inside were off. He looked around himself. Nobody was giving the building a glance.

Right, this was like the hotel room. Whatever this creature was, they couldn’t stand sunlight. He’d have to keep that in mind- maybe he could get them outside on accident? He had been lucky enough to have a handgun on him when he left the bunker but that was it, and something told him that what these things were, they couldn’t be taken down with silver bullets.

Cautiously, Sam crept forward. He pushed on the glass door open and it unlocked. Of course it was unlocked, whatever these things were they probably wanted to kill him in revenge. He maneuvered around empty desks and scattered paperwork careful to keep his ears tuned to listen for any sound. 

His eyes were beginning to adjust now and the small strips of sunlight creeping through the blinds helped him see that there were bones on the floor. Human skulls licked clean of any meat. He was feeling uneasy now. These things have a big appetite and Sam didn’t know how to kill them.

He shouldn’t have come without backup- without Dean- just then a door to his right open suddenly with a loud bang against the wall. Sam drew his gun and pointed at the large mass emerging when a flashlight turned on and pointed at Sam he winced away from the brightness but careful not to look away.

Deputy John gave a sigh of relief and pointed the flashlight away from Sam’s face. 

“Finally! Agent Nelson! Some, uh, really weird stuff has been going on.”

Sam relaxed a fraction of an inch and lowered his gun. “Deputy, didn’t I tell you to stay in the office?” The Deputy shrugged “Well yeah, but I knew it was you. I could smell you.”

“Smell me?” He furrowed his brow and clenched his gun just a little tighter. The Deputy gave a bright smile, one that didn’t quite set on his face right “Yep! All that yummy hunter meat sloshing around. I’m drooling just thinking about how delicious you’re gonna taste.”

There wasn’t even time for him to raise his weapon when his body suddenly gave out from under him. He hit the ground hard. Not even letting himself think about the sloppy warm stuff his shoulder went into. Sam struggled, trying fight against the invisible weights on all his limbs. He was panting hard from the effort of just raising his eyes to look up at the two figures standing over him.

Fran smiled as she came out of the shadows and rested her arm on the cop’s shoulder as they watched Sam struggle with mild amusement. She ruffled her partners head affectionately “Good job, Billy. You’re getting better and better at acting like a human.”

Sam tried to hang on, but the pressure, he was goons pass out. The woman from the hotel- Fran- crouched down in front of him “Now all we have to do is wait until the other hunter shows up looking for you.”

And then Sam was out.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean woke with a gasp, trying to take in air but choking on water. He looked around frantically, he was in some sort of concrete room with pillars- a parking garage, his mind supplied. An empty parking garage. He was cold and wet and- he tried to move but found that his arms were tied to one of the concrete pillars- and bound.

“What the hell happened?”

He couldn’t remember. One minute he’s parking baby outside the Davis’ sheriff's station looking for Sammy, next thing he knows he’s-

There’s the sound of footsteps. They echoes off the empty space. Sounded like two, maybe three people coming his way. 

It’s Sam. Sam was bound and looked totally out of it as he was being half dragged by a slender, young woman. She was so familiar looking but Dean couldn’t bring up the memory. There was some kind of haze over his mind he couldn’t get rid of. And that’s when his eyes caught movement on the other side of him, he whipped around quickly and saw that cop- Deputy John, his mind supplied. Right. Deputy John who was holding an empty pale. Was that why Dean was all wet?

The woman strutted over with Sam and shoved him down to sit against the pillar across from the pillar Dean was tied to. Sam was opening his mouth slack jawed over and over as if he was trying to say something but he couldn’t manage to get out any words. 

Dean tried to speak, just to see if he could “ ‘am.” Was all he got out. Shit it felt like there was a brick in his head, preventing him from doing anything. What were these people?

When the woman was done tying Sam up she stood and Deputy John came to stand beside her. Both looking between the Winchesters happily.

“Now, you two must be awfully confused so I think it’d be best to explain why we’re going to kill you before we do. How’s that sound?” When both of the men just stared at her, she smiled wider.

“See, you killed my boyfriend on your little ‘hunt’ the other night. You two thought that Billy and Michael were a pair of Ghouls when in actuality, our family is a mix of monsters.” she began to walk back and forth, seeming to barely control her anger.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve probably already figured out that I’m a witch. Billy here is a Goblin, and Michael is... was a shapeshifter.” She pulled out a blade from her back pocket, shaking her head as her hand trembled with anger “and now you’re going to pay for Michael’s death.” As suddenly as she had said it, she dug the blade into Sam’s side.

Dean was jolted, his body automatically trying to throw itself at the witch for stabbing his brother who groaned out in pain. But Dean was weak and the ropes around him prevented him from moving very much.

_Sam, Sammy needs his help- she stabbed something important, didn’t she?Shit. If he didn’t get out of the haze somehow, they’d really die._

“Hm, sounds like you really care about this guy- Sam? Is that your real name, special agent Nelson?”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.  
 _Is this witch a mind reader?_

Here Fran smiled- _Fran! Right. From the hotel._

“You’re under the influence of a sorta truth smoke. In this circle you and Sammy’s thoughts are as loud as if you were saying them outright.” 

_Must be the season of the witch  
Must be the season of the witch yeah_

She turned towards Sam and snarled before kicking him.

“No songs! If you do that again, you’ll regret it.”

She said an incantation and Sam slammed his eyes tightly shut and all his muscles tightened. 

_Don’t touch him, bitch! I’m gonna rip your head off!_

_Stop being an idiot. Just shut up._

This made Billy laugh from the sidelines “Do this one, do this one!” Fran indulge the goblin and came over to Dean. Pulling at his short hair and lifting her blade to his throat. “So tell me, Sam. Who is this pretty face right here?”

_Sammy, don’t think about me-_

_I can’t, I can’t! Oh god, he hates me- why is he here? He hates me- don’t you dare hurt him!_

A wicked grin splayed across Fran’s lips and slid the blade slowly along Dean’s neck, leaving a line of red in her wake but not deep enough to really hurt him bad “Now why would he think you hate him, hm? You guys got into a fight or something?” Billy whined “Fran, who cares? Let’s just kill them. I’m getting hungry!”

 

_I kissed Dean- Shit- no. Don’t think don’t think, don’t think about Dean don’t think-_

_Sam sucks at this mind thing. When we get out of here we better do some research. Figure out how to be ready to defend our minds. I like me a good burger. Lots of bacon, mmm. French toast_

_Don’t think don’t think don’t think don’t think. The bunker stairs. Dean’s lips, I almost died from how amazing that kiss felt- it’s wrong, I shouldn’t like him- he’ll hate- DONT THINK DONT THINK DONT THINK_

Fran laughed heartily and let go of Dean’s hair “Wow, you two have some serious issues. So Dean, Sam loved that kiss. How did you feel about it?”

_Like I’d tell you, bitch. French toast with chocolate drizzle- why the fuck does she even care? Bourbon bread, a nice whisky on a cold night- Sam threw his drink in my face, I had to take a shower- cottage cheese should not be allowed to exist. Why would anyone eat that shit?_

_Think of something else, like Dean is… something else, something else…_

Fran rolled her eyes. She suddenly plunged her knife down into Dean’s thigh. He screamed in pain.

_Shit shit shit OW! Fuck!_

_Dean! C’mon, you idiot, think of a why to get out of this. We’re both losing a lot of blood._

Fran ignored Sam, instead she leaned over Dean, searching his eyes “I’m gonna have you singing like a canary soon enough.” Then she kissed him.

The invisible circle grew silent for the first time.

Sam watched the witch kiss Dean. A wave of pain raking through him. His mind was temporarily off. He took advantage of that. His eyes locked on Dean as she kissed his brother deeply while his fingers started on the knot of the ropes.

When she pulled back from Dean she smiled when his thoughts suddenly came rushing out with no filter.

Not good enough. I’ve had better- Sam looks bad. Gonna bleed out. Shit. Still gotta beat his ass for running off without him telling me-

“Tell me how the kiss with Sam went, Dean.” Oh, sh was getting a kick out of this. And now that she had broken past that barrier in the hunter’s mind she could have some real fun.

“Fran, I’m hungry!” Billy cut in and the witch snapped her head over to her partner with annoyance “Shut it, Bill.”

_Sam’s lips are too damn soft to be real. It didn’t make any sense-none of it. I’m going to hell-again. My brother fucking kissed me and I got turned on. What the hell is wrong with me?_

“And the last hunters we took care of said I was sick for being in love with a shapeshifter.” Then something seemed to click and she looked between the two of them, a smile curving her lips in the most unsettling way “Wait. Are you Sam and Dean Winchester? Oh, my, god! This is just too rich. If you wouldn’t have killed my Michael I would have turned you lose and told everyone about your little secret but you couldn’t have left him alone, could you?”

She stabbed Dean in the thigh twice more then shrugged “Oh well, guess you guys are gonna get tortured and then Billy here is gonna eat you up.”

Sam had managed to undo the knot behind his back but the haze and loss of blood was still making him weak, he’d have to plan this out as smartly as he could.

_You shook me all night long_

Fran gritted her teeth and stood slowly from where she was crouched in front of Dean. And turned to face Sam “I thought for sure you had passed out but I guess I was wrong. Didn’t I tell you not to think of songs?” 

She started to Sam just as he had hoped, his freed hands gripping the pocket knife he had kept well hidden tightly. This was it. She was starting to hiss out some sort of spell but it was too late. She had leaned over him, managed to get slice her blade into his cheek. Sam didn’t waste his chance to strike. 

In one swift movement he drilled his knife into her heart. Her eyes bulged, breath shallow, strangling for air, and then she sunk to the floor. Dead eyes staring off to the side at nothing as blood started to pool around her.

The haze lifted almost instantly after her final breath. Sam hurried to his feet, his vision blurred as the loss of blood got to him a bit. He wobbled and was just starting to right himself again when he was suddenly slammed into by the large body of Deputy John. 

He hit the ground hard but didn’t give himself a chance to think about the pain erupting on the back of his head because fists were grabbing hold of his jacket. They wadded up the material, lifting his torso from the ground before slamming him back down into the concrete.

The cries of the blubbering red face above him went something along the lines of “You son of bitch hunter! You killed my family!” But the ringing in his ears was growing by the second. Shit. If he past out this goblin was going to eat him.

Then, out of the blue, a steel pipe swung and collided with the goblin’s head accompanied by a sharp ‘thunk’ sound. The monster nearly fell over on top of Sam but righted himself. He was on his way to turning around to face his attacker’s when the steel pipe struck again, this time cracking the skull open like an eggshell.  
The body fell to the side of Sam, next to Fran.

Dean looked messed up. His pant leg wet with blood, his face deathly pale splattered with blood from the head he had just cracked open. But Dean looked strong all the same. Sam sat up with some difficulty. He was staring at the body of goblin in contemplation. He hadn’t heard of many cases of their kind in America and Dean and him had never come across any. They were said to be greedy and dumb… if he remembered correctly, they possess bodies much like spirits- which, looking the bashed in head of the small town cop made him feel a bit guilty. If they had been able to get the goblin out of him, they might have been able to save him.

When Sam had managed to get on his feet once more he nodded towards the goblin’s unmoving body. “Gotta get him out in the sun or burn the body.” Dean grunted, not looking at Sam. He felt his pockets and found his lighter in the breast pocket of his jacket.


	13. Chapter 13

They had almost needed to send out an SOS to Jody or Cas. After staggering of the impala at a shady ass motel, they had managed to get a room- putting an extra seventy bucks in for the chick at the front desk not to ask any questions as to why a couple of bloodied up guys were showing up in the middle of the night asking for a room.

“Don’t you go dyin’ in my motel.” Had been her only warning before handing them the room key,

Sam had half dragged Dean into the room. He had managed to patch himself up a little on the way but a cold sweat was breaking out on his forehead and chest. Dean was no better. The moment they were in the room, Sam was working Dean’s pants off and digging around in their bags for the first aid. The blade puncture holes were luckily not as deep as he had thought them to be. She had probably purposely used a short blade on them, prolong the torture, prevent herself from cutting too deep too soon. It sent chills down his spin but he quickly reminded himself that the witch was dead.

Dean hissed as Sam poured Pincer Vodka over the wounds. Dean had brought it from the bunker to help null the throbbing headache the conversation with Sam was going to cause, but Sam apparently had better plans for the 88% alcoholic baverage. Dean snatched the bottle from his brother and took a long swig of it before Sam could yank it away from him. “Dean! Give me that!” He managed to wrestle the bottle back watching warily as his brother plopped backwards on his hotel bed. He grimaced as the harsh, dry taste fully hit him and he closed his eyes waiting for the numbness of intoxication to take hold. The cuts may have not ripped him up, but they hurt like hell.

Sam had grunted in tired irritation as he set to work giving Dean the nicest looking stitches you’d expect to receive in the middle of the night in a shady motel.

They were both thinking- thinking too loud. Sam got up and went to the bathroom to check on his own wounds. He got off a little more lucky than Dean. Beside the multiple times he had gotten his head smacked around and the two cuts- on his abdomen and face. He had frantically felt around in the cut on his abdomen on the crazy ride to the motel, trying see if she had punctured anything and found with much relief that her knife had only just barely scraped across his liver, no puncture.

He lifted his shirt in the mirror and looked at the tight wrap of gauze around his middle. Blood was only seeping through a small amount, he guessed the wound was already starting to clot. Good.

Sam paused the doorway into the rest of their motel room and looked at Dean laid out in his briefs and T-shirt. He felt a bit ridiculous with his pants just hanging around his ankles. Sam would have taken them all the way off but dealing with Dean’s shoes were annoying and he had been in a rush to assess the damage.

“We’ll need to take a week or two off, Sammy. Don’t think I’ll be able to do much runnin’ like this.” He hadn’t even opened his eyes, just knew that Sam was there, watching. The younger looked away, fiddling with the broken lamp on the small table. Finally, Sam ventured to ask what he was sure they were both thinking about.

“What you said back there…”

“I didn’t say anything back there, Sam.” Dean’s voice was gruff, Sam would be careful approaching this topic, obviously his brother didn’t want to acknowledge that it had happened. Sam rolled his eyes “Fine. What you thought… when she had asked about the kiss-“

“Sam. Can we not talk about this? I’m fucking exhausted, and your killing my buzz.” Sam was not having that. He stood beside the bed with his hands crossed over his chest tightly as he glared down at his brother “Oh, so I don’t have a right to not talk about shit but you do?”

Dean opened his eyes, looking up at Sam with mild annoyance “I thought you knew that already-“ he began to tease but Sam starting to get angry. He took a calming breath and sat down on the edge of the bed, facing away from Dean.

“You liked it when I kissed you.”

“Sam-“ Dean warned halfheartedly. Sam looked over his shoulder at his older brother who was eyeing him warily. He licked his lips anxiously and saw Dean’s eyes shift down to catch the movement before he quickly tore his eyes away.

He was feeling hot and just a little bit bold. Dean was more exposed like this- Sam’s own feelings were already out in the open but Dean’s- whatever they were- were right there, just under the surface.

“I could kiss you again.” Sam mumbled, his eyes fixed on Dean’s. There was a visual swallow on Dean’s part, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Intoxicated. He could always just blame it on intoxication. The insanely strong alcohol he had taken two or three gulps of. That sounds like a good excuse (for himself). Sam had gone and turned around to face him fully and was leaning over him, waiting for some kind of cue, his shaggy hair falling forward around his face like a veil to hide them from anyone looking in. Dean was so going back to hell for this. Fuck it.

He ignored the sting of the cut on his neck, he pushed himself up on his elbows. This put him mere inches from Sam’s lips. They stared at each other, both hesitating, knowing that this would change everything but ultimately, Dean couldn’t hold off forever. Not after he had gotten a glimpse at what Sam was offering him. One of his hands came up and grabbed at the back of Sam’s neck, who let himself be pulled down the rest of the way.

Their lips met and Dean took a deep breath through his nose because- shit. His whole body seemed to stir, vibrating excitement sending him off on a weird feeling. One of which he had no clue what it was. Kissing Sam… well, it was freakin awesome. 

He felt his buzz humming in the back of his head making him all too eager to start moving his lips against Sam’s. 

The feel of Dean kissing him had Sam moaning lightly. He hadn’t thought that this or really anything close to this would happen between them. He had wanted to kiss Dean like this for so long the actual experience was horrifyingly overwhelming. He couldn’t seem to catch up.

That was okay with Dean. He took full advantage of his hold on Sam’s hair, tugging him closer as their lips move sensually against each other. Sam was like, actually really hot like this. 

He hadn’t wanted to stop- not ever. But he was exhausted and holding himself up became too hard. They parted as Dean laid back on the bed. He watched Sam take in several shaky breaths while recollected himself. God damn it. He looked good with that flush to his skin.

“So are we… are we good?” Sam asked hesitantly. There was a weight behind those words. The weight of a question Sam couldn’t bring himself to ask. Dean didn’t think either of them were ready to confront that question. He reached out and ran his hand down Sam’s forearm. There was something exhilarating about being able to touch his brother intimately. Like the want- the need to touch Sam was bursting forth in buckets from wherever little corner of his mind he had stored it all this time. It was hard to control himself.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So technically the end? Two more chapters that are epilogue-ish so look forward to that.


	14. Chapter 14

They clicked their beers together and rose them to their lips, eyeing the other. It had been two weeks since the case that changed everything. A new lead to their mom and Jack had kept them mostly distracted from the change in their relationship.

But now they were at a break in the road. They were searching, but nothing new was popping up. Dean was trying to get Cas to pick up the goddamn phone but that wasn’t working very well either. So that left them with free time… and silence.

They sat across the table in bunker from each other, Dean nursing his beer but Sam had sat his down on the table and didn’t look as though he was planning to drink more of it. Dean had a pretty definite idea what Sam wanted when he was staring at him like that.

He was getting better at it- reacting to it, at least. The brief moments the two of them had spent exploring each other, Dean had managed to keep his heart in check as it always seemed to raise like a virgin teenager when he had his hands on Sam.

It was about time they stopped fretting about the edges and get down to the knitty gritty. He couldn’t quite imagine what that would look like, but he was curious and willing to give it a shot. But then there was the issue of asking or getting permission from Sam.

He had been watching Sam across the table for sometime now- the other watching him the same way. And then Dean gave a sigh and sat down his beer. He took a moment, thinking what he would do, and the waved Sam over “C’mere.”

A sly, mischievous smile stretched across Sam’s face causing his dimples to show in that very Sammy way, and then Sam was coming around the table towards him. Dean scooted his chair out and his brother took full advantage of that, he placed his knee on the chair between his older brother’s legs and gently- almost as if he was afraid to- place one hand on Dean’s shoulder and one on the side of his face.

Dean’s hands instinctively went to Sam’s hips, to keep him in place. They resumed their staring for the briefest of seconds and then Sam leaned down and kissed him. Open mouths collided hungerly together soft breaths eaten up between them, Dean’s hands were unable to hold still. 

Sam was just so addictive in this way. Scarily so, the way their bodies molded together so nicely. Better than anybody who had come before. It didn’t feel wrong, it just made him feel stupid for letting it take them this long to reach this point.

Sam pulled away with a breathy gasp when Dean grabbed hold of his ass. They were panting from the heated kiss. Dean staring up into Sam’s eyes with such utter lust and Sam staring back with a mirrored expression.

“Let’s get plastered.” Dean blurted. Sam’s eyebrows raised in surprise then narrowed in confusion “Weren’t you the one complaining that I was a horrible drunk?” Sam bit his lips as new heat spread over his skin when the hands still gripping his ass gave another squeeze.

Dean looked up to the ceiling as if thinking really hard before giving Sam a lopsided grin “Somethin’ tells me drunk Sammy’s gonna be a hell of a lot more fun now that he’s not so sexually frustrated.”

Sam punched his arm but couldn’t help but laugh “Fuck you, Dean.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so here is the very end. Hope you enjoy.

“Ah! F-uck!” Sam nearly screamed as Dean pounded into that sweet spot inside of him over and over in just the right way. His brother was practically holding out one long note of his gruff harmony. He was drawing close to release, his hips not even wanting to stay to the rhythm of his thrust. Growing erratic, chasing the feel of Sam’s clenching hole.

Sam had given up at that point of staying on all fours and let his arms fall forward to help prevent his face from completely being smothered by his pillow. The rough treatment was doing a number on him. One of his hands hastily reached for his throbbing erection bobbing to the erratic jerk of Dean’s thrust. He was so close, if Dean could just hit that same spot one more time-

And there it was. Sam came undone with a guttural groan of absolute ecstasy. Dean was not long after pushing himself as far he could into Sam and then he was cumming.

He road it out with a couple of good thrusts, and slipped limply from Sam red and puffy entrance. Gorgeous.

Dean was still getting use to this whole sex-with-Sam thing. They’d both been hesitant about going beyond something like kissing and the occasional hand job… but at some point into their building relationship, Dean had started to voice his wondering of what sex with a man would be like- sex with Sam…

As of a week prior, Dean knew the answer was fucking hot, tight, heaven.

“You could have warned me you were gonna come inside again. Fuck, Dean.” Sam whined between his calming pants of exhaustion. Dean look over to Sam where he laid on his stomach, hair and skin shiny with sweat. There he was, in all his naked beauty. Dean gave a crooked grin, rubbing at Sam’s unshaven cheek. It drew a smile to replace the grumpy frown that had settled in and Dean loved it.

“Couldn’t help myself. Too damn tight.” That made Sam roll his eyes but Dean could see the embarrassment blossoming on his brother’s face as he pushed himself up with a wince of pain.

“Not a valid excuse. I would use a condom, so should you. Or just don’t be a jerk and pull out.” Dean watched Sam gather up his things for a shower and sat up, “I’ll wear a condom if you wear a sexy maid outfit.” Sam gave him a bland, unimpressed expression.

“So never.” 

Dean grinned mischievously “Basically.” Sam shook his head and left his room for the showers down the hall. Dean sat back against the headboard and listened for the sound of the old pipes turning on. He couldn’t very well tell Sam he loved painting the insides of his brother with his cum, couldn’t tell him he loved watching it dribble out and slide down Sam’s tan thighs.

They weren’t ready for that kind of talk yet. Though the word ‘Love’ was hanging on the tip of Dean’s tongue now but he was just looking for the best time to tell him he loved Sam in every way possible.

The pipes overhead rattled to life and Dean closed his eyes, picturing Sam’s relaxing under the hot stream.

Oh yeah, Dean would be telling him real soon now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end~ hope you all enjoyed this little story.
> 
> There is still another twenty or so chapters to my other Sam and Dean story so check it out if you haven’t already!

**Author's Note:**

> So? How did you like it so far? Leave your thoughts in the comments below. I’d love to read your thoughts on it~!


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